The New Boys
by Every'Piece'Has'A'Purpose
Summary: What if the Curtis family were Socs that just moved to town? Would the Outsiders gang that we all know and love still manage to form? - Summary and title will probably change later on.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: I really don't know what made me think of this story… it just kinda… happened… I was just sitting at my computer one day and thought: **_**Hey, what if the Curtises were Socs? **_**And this just came about because of it… **

**Also, in this story Darry'll be 18, Soda will be 16, and Ponyboy will be 12, everyone else is the same as in the book. So I'm just mixing up the ages a bit. Hey, it's fan fiction. I can. XD Johnny and Dally are alive, as a side note.**

**Another warning: Characters may be OOC. Sorry if that happened. I tried my hardest to keep them in character, but, then again, when you move to a new state, you may not be the happiest person in the world, sooo…**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Johnny and Dally would still be alive if I did… **

**Alright, enough with my ramblings: On with the story! **

"I liked Dallas **(1) **plenty better than this place," Sodapop Curtis grumbled under his breathe as his father drove their new Ford car through the Tulsa streets.

"Soda, enough," his mother warned, "You know we couldn't stay there. It was too much money-"

There was more that she had to say, but her second son chose to tune her out. He knew the lecture she was about to give from the sentences she just said: he'd heard the same speech over and over again for the past couple of weeks. It was all about how he should be "glad that they found such a nice sized home," and that they were "so fortunate to be able to live in a house like this". Instead of paying attention to his mother, Soda let his mind wander, specifically thinking about his brothers. Why weren't they as upset as he was? It was Darry's senior year, after all, and he was suddenly ripped out of his high school and being transferred when he was just six months shy of graduation. Ponyboy, on the other hand, had just skipped a grade, and was in his last year of Junior High, despite being only twelve years old, so he wasn't exactly in the same situation, but he still had the same attachment to the old house that all of the Curtises did.

"Are you listening to me, young man?" Mary Curtis asked, pulling the sixteen year old out of his thoughts.

"Yes, mom," the sixteen year old grumbled, resting his elbow on the arm rest that was on his side of the backseat, placing one side of his face in his open palm.

Mary's gaze at her son through the rear-view mirror softened a bit. "Sweetheart, I know you're upset about leaving. I think we all are, but you have to understand that it was just too much with bills and whatnot to stay. Your father had to take this promotion, and it moved us out here. I miss the house just as much as you do, I've lived there since before you were born, but there wasn't any other choice."

Soda sighed. "Yeah, I know. But that don't make it any easier, just packing up all'a our stuff, and leavin' everything behind," Unlike his mother, who had been born and raised up north in Pennsylvania, Soda and his brothers were southern boys, who had a strong accent from living in Texas their entire lives- until now, that is.

"Well," his mother said after a moment's pause, mulling over her son's words, "Think of it like this: you'll have an opportunity to make new memories here with new friends, and girls do love southern gentlemen, so I'm sure you'll find yourself a wonderful young lady here. That doesn't sound bad, now does it?"

Her son didn't answer. Instead, he gave another small sigh as a reply, and turned his attention to look out the window. It was tinted **(2)**, giving the entire scenery a dark coloring, but it still gave him a good view of the place he now called home: Tulsa, Oklahoma.

_Glory, _he thought to himself,_ this place don't even _look_ like Dallas. _

Their hometown had been heavily populated, with people on almost every corner you turned at. A crowd of people were always out doing something, no matter what time or what day it was. Tulsa- or, at least the back, secluded streets they were on now- was just… bare. No life anywhere. There was no person bustling to get last minute shopping done, or a group of kids playing hopscotch, despite the unreal summer temperatures. It was just deathly still and eerily quiet.

_Seems a bit too quiet for my likin'_, Soda thought to himself, thinking of all the many ways he could be bored to death here. _You_ can _die from that kinda stuff, can't ya?_ he wondered, and then considered asking his younger brother, the twelve year old that, as far as Soda was concerned, knew almost everything about everything, who was sitting right next to him in the back seat, but held his tongue. Ponyboy was fast asleep, head planted up against the window with his legs slightly slanted under him, hands resting on them. He looked too peaceful to be disturbed by such a stupid question, so the middle brother let him be.

The sixteen-going-on-seventeen year old turned his attention once again to the window, catching the glance of his older brother, who was driving behind them. Their father had bought four new cars in "celebration" for the move(although Soda felt it was more like an "I'm sorry" for moving them out of their home so suddenly) one for himself, one for his wife, one for Soda and one for Darry. He had originally been planning to ship out three of the cars down to the new house, but Darry had caught sight of his in their (old) garage and fell in love with it instantly, begging to get his first drive of it on the way to Tulsa. A honk followed when the oldest Curtis boy saw his younger brother looking out, Pony stirred a slight bit in his slumber, and Soda gave a small wave back, before turning himself back around, and slinking back into his seat.

"When're we gonn' get there, exactly?" he asked his parents, careful to keep his voice at a whisper in case he were to wake his brother up even further.

His dad answered. "About an hour left. Just hang tight for a bit longer."

Soda did just that. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned his head back on his seat, hoping to catch a small bit of sleep before they arrived at their new home.

He must've fallen asleep, because the next thing he knew, Soda was being shaken awake by Darry, and Ponyboy was climbing out of the car.

"We here?" he muttered, rubbing his eyes as he woke himself up.

"Yeah, we are, lil' colt," Darry said, using the nickname that their father had called the middle child after his love of horses was discovered. "Now, c'mon, get some'a your stuff outta the back and help us unpack." He gave his brother a playful push out of the car, and Soda took the hint, and headed over to Darry's new car, where most of their stuff had been loaded, since the oldest had been driving by himself and had plenty of room to spare.

Gathering some of the many boxes up in his arms, Sodapop followed his two brothers and father into the house while his mother instructed the last of the movers about where to put everything. His chocolate eyes scanned over the outside of what they would now call "home".

It was a fairly large house. This thing was nowhere near the size of the one they owned in Texas, but, in comparison to the other homes on the street, it was definitely one of, if not _the_ biggest one there. It stood roughly three stories tall with an all-brick exterior that was covered in windows of all different shapes and sizes. Columns hung down from the balcony on the second floor, surrounding the entrance and giving a nice amount of shade against the Oklahoma heat. Their driveway was a large semi-circle that wrapped around the exterior of the house, easily holding both new cars, another two that were shipped there for both Mrs. Curtis and Soda (who had just gotten his license a few months prior)to drive, and the final moving van that had a few small items left to bring into the house. There wasn't much land in the front (their new neighbors were a bit closer then Soda expected them to be) but if you took a peek at the backyard, it made up for what the front didn't have, with a seemingly ever-expanding yard that looked as if it went on for miles.

_It'll sure be easy to play us some football back there_, the sixteen year old thought, taking in one last glimpse of the back before walking through the double doors that lead into his new home.

His father led the three boys- who had never been inside this place before, as opposed to Darrel Curtis Sr., who had been there a few times to make sure it was a good home for his family to live in- to their rooms so they could each set down their pile of boxes. They headed past the living room, kitchen (where Darrel set down his stack of boxes), and dining room before turning a sharp left, down a long hallway that passed too many rooms for Soda to know what they were before coming to the stairs at the very end of the corridor. Once the group finished climbing them, and were all on the second floor, their father made another sharp turn, into the very first room, and told Darry it was his. The oldest boy left the group, and Darrel took the youngest two boys down another long hallway, to the room right across the hall from their older brother's.

"Here ya go, boys, this spot's all yours," he said with a wide smile, before turning on his heel, back the way he came, presumably to get some more of the boxes out of Darry's truck.

Pony gave a small whistle at the brothers' shared room (despite the fact that there was plenty of space for each of them to have their own bedrooms, it was a small request on their part to share one: they had done the same thing back in Texas, for the simple reason that both brothers liked the company of the other). It was large enough to fit nearly five people, and had way too much space for only two. But, Soda couldn't say he minded much. He wasn't the neatest person around, and would probably wind up covering the large space with all of his belongings in a matter of a few weeks. The two both threw their boxes on their respective beds that the movers had probably just brought in earlier that day, along with the rest of the furniture that was in their room.

"What'dya think, Soda?" the twelve-year old boy asked, green eyes moving around the room at such a rapid speed, it would be a miracle if he could actually see anything.

" It's not bad, kid," was the reply. Soda didn't need to say much else, Pony knew how he felt about this entire moving situation. The whole family did. It wasn't as if Soda did much to hide his disdain of leaving his home, and his friends, and everything that he grew up with behind.

Ponyboy gave a small smile. "Well, from here, there ain't gonna be lots'a lights, so the sunset'll be lots clearer." His green-gray eyes seemed to light up at that prospect, and the sixteen year old couldn't help but smile at his little brother. He loved things like sunsets a lot, for some deep reason Soda couldn't dream of understanding. All he knew was that Pony loved seeing them every night, and Soda did his best to watch them with him. Who knew: maybe one day, from looking at them so much, he'd see the reason why Ponyboy enjoyed them so much.

"Well," the oldest in the room said, walking by his little brother and ruffling his reddish hair, "we better be gettin' a move on. There're plenty'a boxes waitin' for us outside. "

Soda headed out of their room, Ponyboy on his tail, as he walked back the path back outside. Once they got there, however, their mother stopped them, and called all three boys over (Darry had just headed outside, as well) along with their father.

"Boys, come meet our new neighbors," Mary said cheerfully, her blonde hair whipping all over her face from the unusual Tulsa wind as she turned around, "They came out a few minutes ago, when they saw us pulling in."

A women stepped up first, looking like the traditional '60's housewife. Her light brown hair was so huge and puffed up on her head, not at all affected by the wind and being held in place by a small red headband and pounds and pounds of hairspray. Her face was caked in make-up, as well, with lips covered with cherry lipstick, and eyes completely engulfed with eyeshadow of an identical color, but, underneath all that makeup hid a somewhat attractive face that just looked as if it was buried under foundation. She wore a polka-dot dress that hung a bit off of her shoulders, and popped out at the waist, swallowing up her tiny little form.

She held out her little hand as she introduced herself. "I'm Irene Sheldon," her voice was a bit scratchy- Soda figured she was probably a smoker, either now or when she was younger, "And these here are my boys, Bob and Jimmy, and my husband Robert."

Each of the boys, and their father, shook all the presented hands. Soda noticed how the father looked a bit too snotty for his own good. He wore knee-length khaki shorts, that stopped almost directly where his socks began and led into a pair of freshly-shined loafers, with a pink polo that had a sweater tied overtop of it at the neckline. His black hair was combed back, managing to stay in place with something that Soda wasn't all too sure of, but sure didn't look like hair gel. He, like his wife, was a twig of a man, tiny and thin and barely reaching Darry's chin- and Darry was six-foot-two. Robert also stood as if he had a stick up his ass, and his nose was up in the air as if he just smelt something terrible.

The boys, however, were somewhat normally dressed. The older one, Bob, was wearing a white madras and some khaki pants. Jimmy, who couldn't have been much older than Ponyboy, was just clad in a gray tee-shirt and some jeans, with brown hair slicked back, like his father's. Out of all of the Sheldon family, Jimmy looked the most relaxed, and the most natural. Irene looked a bit too overly happy, Robert looked stuck-up, and Bob just looked annoyed while his younger brother was cool and calm.

Irene, with her too-wide-to-be-true smile, turned to Ponyboy once all introductions were made. "You're in ninth grade, right, dear?" Mary had also managed to slip ages into the conversation before the boys arrived. When the youngest Curtis nodded, Irene's smile got wider, which no one believed to be possible, "So's my Jimmy! Oh, how nice; you'll both be in the same grade!"

Mary grinned, too. "That's great! At least he'll know someone when he starts on Monday. It's hardest to make friends in the middle of the school year."

Mrs. Sheldon nodded in agreement, and said something that Soda wasn't really paying attention to that launched the mothers into a conversation over something he also didn't know.

The middle brother saw Darry give a look to their dad, and without a word the two went back to Darry's truck to grab some more boxes. Soda gave Pony a small tap on the shoulder, and the two brothers followed the others' lead, and grabbed some more things to bring inside. Bob and Jimmy had left and went back inside their home, and Robert was sticking around with his wife, probably just out of some type of politeness. Or to make himself look better. Soda figured it was more along the lines of the second one.

Once again, the middle brother followed his two siblings and father into the house with a fresh arm-full of boxes. He took a peek at his neighbors from the corner of his eye, drinking in both of their ridiculous outfits for the second time.

_I wonder if all'a the people from Tulsa are this weird…_ he thought, then shrugged his shoulders lightly- or, as best he could while carrying boxes- _Maybe they'll keep this dull town somewhat interestin'_.

**AN: Now that I take a look at this again, I think I should've made this from Pony's POV… but, oh well. It's gonna stay as Soda's. Once again, I'm sorry for any OOCness. I did try, but who knows if it worked or not. **

**I hope this chapter was good so far! Sorry for any mistakes. Please leave me a review, and let me know how I did. Criticism is welcome: I want to be a better writer, and I'm open to any suggestions you guys have to give me :D **

**Next chapter will be on the way soon! **

**(1): He's talking about the city in Texas, in case any of you were confused. Dally isn't in this **_**just**_** yet ;) XD **

**(2): Tinted windows were invented in 1961, in case any of you were concerned: I Googled it, to make sure it fit in the timeline.**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Thank you guys so much for the reviews! I'm so thrilled that you seem to be enjoying the story so far! :D And I'm glad you think I did well with the characters! :D I hope you all like this chapter, too! :D **

**-And, I know so many people like Soda's POV in the first chapter, but it won't all be in his. I think the majority probably will, but not the entire story… **

**-Disclaimer: Nope, I still own nothing. I'm not that important to buy off all the rights to a book. Maybe someday,when I actually have money… XD**

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><p>Dally took a drag of his cigarette, brushing away a few strands of pale-blonde hair that made their way into his face from the wind. He didn't keep his hair greased like the other three members of his gang, so it was free to fly about wherever it pleased. However, his hair wasn't his greatest concern: it was the fact that Steve was taking far too long of an overtime shift to flirt with a few girls that had just walked into the DX station, and Dally was starting to get annoyed.<p>

And Dally wasn't exactly the best person to be around when he was annoyed.

He was glad that it was just Johnny with him at this point- Two-Bit was off flirting with some blonde that Steve forgot to snatch up, trying to charm her into going out with him tonight- because Johnny was the quiet one of the gang; he never said more then what he needed to, when he needed to. If he had nothing to say, then he simply wouldn't say a word, unlike Two-Bit and Steve, who often times felt the need to get their banter in at any possible moment. If either of the two of them had been with Dally at the moment, someone would have some broken bones. And it wouldn't have been the eighteen year old greaser.

He took another puff of his cigarette and gave a sideways glance towards Johnny, who was standing right next to him as they both rested against one of the walls of the DX station. The younger boy's wide, dark eyes seemed to search the entire area, flicking from one place to another rapidly, scanning every detail.

_Probably lookin' out for them damn Socs_, Dally thought to himself, remembering the day not even six months ago when Johnny was jumped by five of the west-town rich kids that thought themselves so much better than the east-side greasers. Steve, Two-Bit, and himself had found the youngest of their gang lying the lot a few minutes after it happened, Johnny's cheek gashed open because one of them decided to beat him with his five, ringed fingers after attacking him in the open because he just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time: he had been trying to find the gang's only football that had landed somewhere in the lot the day before, when the bastards pulled up in their Mustang and caught him before he could run away. The sixteen-year-old's only jacket was now stained with his own blood, and his cheek had a scar from the idiot with the rings that Dally would love nothing more then to beat into oblivion.

Johnny was naturally skittish from being beaten by his dad on a daily basis, but after his encounter with those Socs, he was paranoid about nearly every noise, imagining it was someone ready to jump him again. He was gradually getting less jumpy as the days went on, but Dally had a strong feeling that he would always been a nervous wreck to some extent. Johnny, for as tough as he was, wasn't someone that could just get over things like that- being surprised and beaten- and leave it behind him, especially with the scar on his cheek being a constant reminder.

Dally's eyes and his thoughts were torn away from the youngest greaser by Steve, who decided he had enough of flirting with his pack of girls, and went over to join his two quiet pals. A smack was heard across the gas station not a second later, and all three turned to see Two-Bit rubbing his cheek with his blonde heading off with her friends, hopping in her car and driving off. The oldest greaser then joined the other three, and they all headed off: where they were going, they weren't quite sure, but it was a Friday night, so they had every intention to find action of some sorts on the Tulsa streets.

"Ya know," Steve started, lighting himself a cigarette that he took out of his pocket, and taking a drag, "My old man said some new Socs moved to town."

"Oh yeah?" Two-Bit asked, mimicking the brow-haired greaser and blowing a smoke ring from his cigarette and cocking an eyebrow, "And just how does your dad know that? Did he actually go to work instead of get boozed up?"

"You ain't much better with your booze then he is. One of these days I'm gonna see you at my house and the two'a ya are gonna be gettin' drunk together-"

"I prefer to keep my beer to myself, thank you very much," the rusty haired greaser stated. As if to prove his point, he pulled a beer bottle seemingly out of nowhere and took a swig of it.

"Whatever gets ya to sleep at night, Two-Bit," Steve said, then continued with his story, "Anyway, my dad decides to actually go to work today, an' he said it had to be the biggest damn place he ever saw. He was bringin' in a few of their boxes, and the inside was about twice the size of the outside. Said there was room for five families, not just one. They get there at five or so, and apparently they're as good-lookin' as they are rich."

"Why do we give a damn, Randle?" Dally asked, "Socs ain't exactly special. We got a whole bunch'a 'em ready to fight us, n'case you haven't noticed."

"'Cause if they're some new Socs, we might have some new trouble. 'Specially if they're super rich. More money means they can get their hands on more stuff- which might mean more trouble for us."

"Like that's anything new? We always got Socs ready to cut us into pieces with the fancy weapons they buy at their fancy-ass stores," the tow-headed greaser stated, puffing out a smoke ring that would've made Two-Bit jealous had he actually been paying attention, and not staring at every girl that happened to walk by.

"Maybe they ain't gonna be all bad," Johnny said, speaking up for the first time that night, "Maybe, 'cause they're new'n all, they won't try'ta fight us every chance they get."

Dally gave him a sideways look. "You outta your damn mind, kid? They're Socs. I don't give a damn where they're from, they all do the same thing: fight greasers. They ain't gonna be nothing new. Just some more shit that we're gonna have'ta watch out for."

Johnny gave a small shrug, but didn't say anything in reply. He hitched his thumbs in his pockets, and just continued walking with the rest of his gang, who were all still hoping to find some action for the night.

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><p><strong>AN: I'm so sorry this is a short chapter! I <strong>_**was**_** going to make it longer, but the scene I was going to put in didn't quite fit in yet. Then, I had nothing else to add to this chapter, so it wound up just ending like this. I hope it's still a pretty good chapter! Please review, and let me know how I did. Was it good, decent, or so terrible you were ready to crush all the world's computers into smithereens so you would never have to see this chapter again? … I really hope it's not the last one, 'cause my computer is my baby… ANYWAY! I hope I did the characters justice: Dally isn't easy to write…**

**Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, and the next one **_**will**_** be longer! :D**

**And, just as a side note, Steve's dad is a mover. He was one of the guys that were helping the Curtis' move in, so that's how he knows all of that stuff: just in case anyone was confused. :) **

**Okay, I'm done now. Next chapter'll be up soon! **


	3. Chapter 3

** Thanks, guys, for all the reviews! I got one more for the second chapter then I did for the first and I. am. So. Freaking. Happy! :D And I ate a lot of sugar… which might explain my overly happiness…**

**MOVING ON! Chapter three time, baby! And it's longer than chapter two! WOOHOO! **

**Disclaimer: I still own nothing. I never have, never will, unless I publish a book called "The Outsiders" that is about the exact same thing as S.E. Hinton's, which is plagiarism… and I'm pretty sure that's illegal… **

**On! With! The! Story! :D**

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><p>Monday came quicker then any of the Curtis boys would've liked. Especially Sodapop. He wasn't even remotely settled into his new home yet, let alone ready to start school in the new town that he had barely explored. There was a plan, at first, to fake being sick so he could skip the first day, but Soda knew his mother wouldn't fall for it. Heck, even if he was sick, the sixteen year old was pretty sure his mother would've made him go to school unless he was dying on his bed.<p>

So, with great reluctance, Sodapop got himself up and out of his bed, and woke up his little brother, which proved to be more of a difficult task then he would've liked. Ponyboy was a heavy sleeper, and wouldn't wake up if their house was on fire during a nuclear war, let alone for something like school. The sixteen year old had to resort to pouring a freezing cup of water on him to get his little brother awake, and even that took some time before it finally woke him up.

The two of them got themselves ready in the bathroom that was an add-on to their room, complete with a small bathtub and shower. They got dressed in new clothes their mother had bought over the weekend just for this day. She wanted all of her boys to look "like well-dressed young gentlemen" on their first day in a new school. Soda knew, looking at the outfit, that this was nothing major compared to what his mother _could've_ bought him. It was just a simple blue plaid shirt and white pants, freshly ironed and pressed, still having that fresh-out-of-the-washer smell to it. He had new loafers on, too, that hurt his feet before he even tried to walk in them. Ponyboy, on the other hand, looked far more sophisticated then any twelve year old should. He was the baby of the family, so their mother had gone all out when it came to buying him clothes. He was covered in a dark green polo that you could barely see underneath the argyle sweater that was mostly black, except for the green diamonds on it that were designed to match his polo. His new khaki pants were too long, heading past his ankles and dragging onto the floor, even in his new shoes that gave a good two inches to his height.

"I think I'm gonna die in this," the youngest boy said, "It's so damn hot 'round here that this thing'll kill me from overheatin'"

Soda laughed. "Don't let mom hear ya talkin' like that, little brother. She'll kill ya before the clothes have a chance to."

Both boys greased up their hair a bit- something plenty of the kids in their old neighborhood in Texas did to keep their hair back and out of their face **(1)- **before heading downstairs for breakfast.

Mary had went overboard when it came to the food. There were plates stuffed with piles of pancakes, stacks of toast and bacon, muffins stacked on top of each other, and hash browns piled neatly on top of one another in neat rows and so many omelets that Soda wondered if they had any eggs left at any store in town. All of the food was placed in the center of their dining room table, all the plates they were on in perfect straight lines, for a buffet-style look for everyone to pick the food they wanted as they pleased. And somehow Mrs. Curtis managed to make all of this food in under two hours. Though she had a few workers around the house for cleaning and doing laundry and whatnot, she never let anyone cook besides herself. She felt her boys deserved a meal that only their wife and mother could make.

Darry (who was dressed in a green madras shirt, his football jacket from their old school hanging over top of it, and some khakis) and Soda rushed through their helpings of pancakes and eggs. School was starting in a half an hour, and they lived about fifteen minutes away when they drove. Pony, only being in junior high, had plenty of time to enjoy his food since they started at a later time then the high-schoolers. After they finished, both of the older boys handed their plates to one of the cleaners that had just arrived this morning, and headed outside to Darry's car. Soda's hadn't arrived yet, it was due the next day, but he still probably would've ridden with his older brother had it been there. He mainly only drove when his mother needed him to run out really quickly to get something or someone, on dates, or in a drag-race that he was bound to win with his new, top-of-the-line car that had the best engine around.

The ride was mostly silent, filled only with occasional chatter between the two brothers and the sound of Elvis playing on the radio. Neither of the two really had much to say, they'd spent their weekend at home, considering that they didn't no a single person here (minus their neighbors) to spend it with, and they had nothing to talk about school-wise, since it hadn't exactly started yet. It bothered Sodapop, to say the least. He didn't like the quiet, or anything boring, for that matter. He liked to talk, to have fun, to enjoy himself, and sitting in a car with your older brother that was hardly saying a word on your way to a brand new school didn't even come close to anything fun or enjoying.

Darry pulled up to the school after promptly fifteen minutes on the road, which nearly made his younger brother laugh. The eighteen year old was _always_ on time, whether he ever meant to be or not. It was like he couldn't do anything if he didn't do it perfectly on the dot.

The school, Will Rogers High School, was like any other around, minus the fact that it was fairly large, standing at three stories tall and had about five different wings for classes alone. It was just a brick building, that looked fairly old- all of the bricks seemed to have some stain or another on them, and the parts that weren't stained were covered in chalk, with things written by students over the years. The windows- the small amount that there were- were fogged up and clouded, every metal piece to the outside of the school- doors, railings, and some windowsills- were covered in rust.

Soda hopped out of Darry's truck, and grabbed his new school bag** (2)** that his mother had also bought when she had gotten their new clothes out of the backseat. Mary also made a trip to the school over the weekend and picked up her boys' schedules for them, which Soda dug out of one of the pouches of his school bag. He scowled when he saw he had Chemistry first period, one of his least favorite subjects. Actually, most things about school Soda didn't enjoy, minus auto-shop and lunch, but science was one of the few things that took the cake in terms of things he hated. Everything was just so… technical. Soda didn't care why chemicals reacted the way they did, or what the products of cell-respiration were (something he had learned last year in Biology, and a test he had failed), all he knew- or cared about knowing- was that they did whatever it was they did, and nothing exploded, so it had to be pretty good. He didn't need all the details involved.

"Hey, Soda!" Darry called across the parking lot as both brothers headed separate ways for their classes, "Meet me at the truck after school, ya hear? Don't go off wanderin' in a place ya don't know."

Soda rolled his eyes, a small smile on his face as he shouted back his agreement. That was also something Darry was: a worrier, especially when it came to his little brothers. He needed to know where they were and what they were doing almost all the time, unless he had something to keep him occupied, like girls, football, or friends, or else he would near freak. Soda couldn't say he minded too much, though; it was nice having someone look after you.

That smile, however, disappeared off of his face when he remembered where he was going: Chemistry class. He groaned lightly to himself as he headed into the school building, revolting the thought of having to face his worst nightmare on his first day to school in a town he didn't want to be in.

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><p>He was nearly late for class. That was a miracle, seeing as Soda had absolutely <em>no <em>idea where he was headed, and accidentally stumbled into a math class (where he saw Darry yet again) and the music room before he made it to Chemistry. The teacher, Mrs. Gleeson, a pudgy older woman with a head full of gray hair and a bright smile, greeted him warmly after Sodapop told her he was new. The only bad thing about her so far was her reaction to his name: wide eyes, and a long look at her attendance chart to make sure what she heard was real. And, even then, she still looked completely disbelieving that someone could be named after a beverage. Sodapop didn't like that: no matter how unusual it was, he was proud of his name, and he didn't enjoy half of the looks he got when he told people what it was.

"Well, Mr. Curtis, you can sit next to…," the teacher's eyes scanned the room for an empty seat, before landing on a spot, "Mr. Cade. Johnny, dear, please raise your hand."

A small hand in the back of the room popped up a second later, and Soda made his way to his seat. The owner of the hand was a small boy, with a slight build. He had dark eyes, dark hair that was greased back, much like Soda's and tanned skin. He wore a jean jacket that had some strange, rusty stains, a dark shirt, and some torn up jeans and shoes that had seen some better days. There was a look about him that Sodapop couldn't quite place, but if he had to guess, it would probably be something of a cautious, wary undertone to his calm demeanor. And it was hard not to notice how Johnny tensed up the slightest bit when he sat down, scooting a little bit in his seat.

"Hey, kid," Soda whispered to him over Mrs. Gleeson's talking, her lesson now ready to begin, "I take it you're Johnny Cake, huh?" he asked, and saw a bit more fear cloud into his eyes.

The scared look was gone as quickly as it began, and the kid gave a curt nod as a reply, "Cade. Johnny Cade."

Soda held out his hand, a wide smile on his face, "Name's Sodapop Curtis. Nice ta meet'cha, Johnny boy."

Johnny stared at the hand like it was the devil ready to take his soul. His dark eyes flickered back up to Sodapop, a curious and disbelieving look on his face. The blonde just smiled a little bit brighter, a bit amused, and a bit curious, about the kid's expression. After another moments pause, Johnny took Soda's hand in his own, and gave it a small shake.

"Yeah," the dark-haired boy said simply, " 'S'good to meet ya, too."

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><p>After Chemistry, Soda attempted to find the next class he was supposed to head to: English. That, he could deal with a bit better then science. At least English class involved a bit of imagination, especially when writing. Soda wasn't big on reading or writing- that was more of Ponyboy's field of interest- but he could tell a pretty good story when he set his mind to it. That was how he got his youngest brother to believe Santa Clause and the Easter Bunny were the same person until he was about ten years old.<p>

Just as he was about to leave the science room, however, a hand clamped down on Soda's shoulder.

"Hey, new neighbor," came a voice that Sodapop had only heard once: Bob, the boy whose family that he had met a few days ago, when the Curtis family had just arrived in Tulsa.

_When the hell did he get here? _Soda wondered to himself, having no memory of seeing the dark-haired boy at all in class.

"Uh, hey, neighbor," he shot back awkwardly, wondering just where Bob sat all class and what he wanted.

"Look, I know you and I aren't exactly best buddies n'all, seein' as how you just moved here, but I just wanted to give you a tip of advice. Neighbor to neighbor, ya dig?"

"Yeah, I dig," Soda said back, realizing Bob wasn't going to say anything else until the sixteen-year-old said something first.

"Wellup, look, that kid that you were sittin' with in science class, I know you were tryin'ta be nice an' whatnot, but he's not exactly the kinda kid you wanna be around," Bob's dark eyes momentarily filled with some type of disgust when he mentioned Johnny, but it flickered away before Soda could make some sense of it.

"Why?" the blonde asked, wondering if Johnny had some long criminal record of murdering new kids from Texas, "What's up with 'im?"

Bob didn't answer right away, thinking about an appropriate response. "Well, let's just say he's not the kinda guy someone like you needs to be around. His kind ain't the best company."

Soda stared at him, wondering what that could mean. _Was _Johnny a murder? A convict? He certainly didn't _seem_ like it, but that didn't necessarily mean anything. Maybe Bob was just looking out for his best interest so he could not get killed… or maybe the two of them just weren't good friends… Johnny had seemed like a nice enough guy, though- quiet, but nice.

Sodapop gave a simple shrug as a reply. Bob eyed him judging his reaction.

"Just tryin'ta look after you is all. Bein' you're new neighbor and everythin'." Bob explained, looking over Soda's shoulder, down at his schedule. "Need some help finding your next class? It's with Mr. Burnaby, looks like, and he's a real bastard, especially about bein' late."

"Yeah, sure. Don't wanna make any teachers hate me on my first day, after all."

"That's the idea, kid," Bob said, leading Soda down the long hallway and up a set of stairs to his English class. "Just remember what I said. S'all I'm askin'."

"Sure, Bob," Soda answered, heading into his English room, "Whatever ya say."

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><p><strong> Yay! I finished! :D Alrighty, so now you see (partially) the first day in school. The next chapter will also be about school and stuff, so, yup, you have that to look forward to, I guess… Anyway! I said I would make this chapter longer: and I did. I'm happy :~) But, my opinion doesn't count right now. What did you people, my wonderful readers, think of this? Leave a review and let me know. What was good, bad, okay about this chapter? I won't know unless you click that little button and review… :~)<strong>

**(1): I have absolutely no idea if people in Texas did this in the '60s. I'm taking a shot in the dark with that. But, for the purpose of the story, and so that way the boys can have some of their greaser traits, we'll pretend that it's true :P **

**(2): I Googled this, too: the modern back-pack design was innovated in the early 1960's… so it still fits in the time line :D**


	4. Chapter 4

**You guys are awesome! I got one more review for chapter three then I did for chapter two, which puts me at two more then chapter one! YAY! :D You guys are so sweet to review, and I appreciate every message, criticism or praise. You all sure know how to make a girl smile! :D **

**Disclaimer:… I still own nothing… I'm getting more and more depressed every time I say this… or type it… whichever makes more sense…**

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><p>After English came Spanish class- something Sodapop hardly paid attention to, and simply scribbled in his notebook to pass the time and to block out the teacher's constant, monotonous droning- which was followed by gym, a class he didn't actually mind. He wasn't necessarily the best athlete, like Darry was, but Soda could definitely throw a football or run a mile if he wanted to. He'd even been asked to join quite a few teams back in his old school: he just didn't find sports as a serious duty, like his brothers did. Soda just enjoyed them because he got to move around, and let loose some of the energy that always managed to be stored in him, not for the competition like a lot of other students did.<p>

It was in gym that Soda met up with Darry. They were both in different classes, seeing as the older was a senior and the younger was a first-year in high school, but that didn't stop either from being happy to see a familiar face.

"You stayin' outta trouble, kid?" Darry asked when both brothers had a chance to talk amongst the teachers giving out different instructions about what they were doing for the day.

Sodapop scoffed in fake hurt. "Me? Ya expect _me_ off all people to be gettin' in trouble? I think ya should be more worried 'bout Pony, what with him bein' all by himself in the junior high an'all."

Darry gave a small smile. "Pony ain't the one that got in trouble for 'disturbin' the peace' back in Dallas."

"You ain't gonna let that go, are ya? I jus' did a couple'a handstands and flips downtown. The cop had some type'a issue or somethin' to wanna pull me in for that."

"That didn't make mom and dad any less ticked 'bout it."

Soda was about to give a reply when one of the coaches turned their way.

"Curtis!" he bellowed with a follow-up of a tweet of the whistle that hung over his sweatshirt and bounced off of his large stomach. His beady eyes glanced down at the clipboard he held in his meaty arms, and turned back to the two boys that now held his attention.

"Darrel, you're with Bakers. Sodapop," he glanced down at the clipboard once more and narrowed his eyes as if he couldn't believe that was actually the name written down, "You're with Randle. Get yourselves a football and start practicing some passes. Football season's coming up and we need you kids to start getting ready."

He pointed both boys over to their assigned partners: Darry walked over to red-headed boy with freckles and a skinny build that looked as if he didn't want to even be holding a football, let alone actually trying to practice with one. Soda's partner, on the other hand, was tossing the football up and down in a perfect spiral with one hand. His light brown hair was combed over in swirls that hung loosely over his face, and his dark eyes narrowed when he set sights on his partner. Soda had no idea _why_ he would look even remotely angry. It's not as if they met before, unless he was a transfer student from Dallas, too, that had just moved there today and had some type of grudge against the middle Curtis from their old school. However, that was something Sodapop doubted extremely.

A football was thrown in his direction, and he caught it with ease- practicing with Darry, the sports superstar, helped him a lot when it came to his reflexes. Darry wasn't always the gentlest player, even when it came to his younger brothers, though he would tune it down a bit for the less-professional athletes of the family.

"I guessin' you're Randle?" Soda asked, tossing the football back through the air in a spiral that Darry would be proud of.

"Yup," was the short answer that came from the other kid. He tossed the ball back to the blonde, which was caught yet again.

"You got a first name?"

"Randle" caught the pass that was just thrown back at him. "Yup," he repeated as the ball once again soared through the air.

"You mind tellin' me what it is?" Soda asked, catching the ball and passing it back.

"Why do ya care?" Randle shot back, keeping the ball at his side instead of throwing it back.

The blonde shrugged. "Would ya rather me call you 'Randle' all the time?"

Anger flashed in his partner's dark eyes. "Who the hell says I want ya to call me a damn thing?"

Sodapop gave a small glare to the kid standing across from him. "I dunno what the hell your problem is-"

Randle snorted, interrupting the sixteen year old. "_My _problem? Ya really gotta ask what my damn problem is?"

"I ain't done a damn thing to ya. It's my first damn day at this damn school. I dunno know if you're pissed off at someone or somethin' like that, but that ain't no damn reason to act like you got a stick up your ass."

Another snort came from the other boy and he closed the distance between the two of them, the football hanging loosely in his grip. "_You_ are my damn problem. Don't give me that damn innocent, new kid act. You and your fucking rich kid friends annoy the hell outta me, and don't act like you ain't got a clue about why. You're always goin' after me and my buddies, an' all us east-side kids. So don't give me any of that bull," he hissed out, venom coating every word. His two hands gripped the football and he slammed it into Soda's stomach, knocking the air out of his lungs, "You fucking Socs are all the same," Randle growled out before stomping off to find himself another partner.

Sodapop stared after him for a bit, one arm wrapped around his now-throbbing torso, the other holding the football. His narrowed his brown eyes in thought, contemplating the words that just left the other's mouth. _What the hell's a Soc?_

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><p>After gym class, Darry was headed off to World History. It wasn't necessarily a class he minded- he did fairly well back in his old school. The only issue he had with that class was that it became boring and repetitive. As if history felt it necessary to constantly repeat itself to make students bored in class. Actually, now, that wasn't his only problem when it came to the class. The second challenge he faced was that he had absolutely no idea where it was. He figured he had to have traveled the halls twice already, and there was no sign of the room number it listed on the small paper he held that gave the list of all his classes.<p>

It was on what Darry thought was his third trip around the school, and many, many minutes after the late bell had rung, that he met someone standing out in the halls, the school being strangely deserted for the middle of the day. Either that, or kids that were skipping decided to take off instead of lounging around in the halls. At least, except for this one boy.

He was tall with a stocky build, and rusty hair that came down in sideburns on his face. His gray eyes were dancing and amused (at what, Darry didn't know) and so bright that Darry could see them across the hallways. An unlit cigarette hung between his lips, which he twirled around with his tongue as he rested against the lockers, looking as if he had no intention of heading to class.

The unknown kid called over to Darry. "Well, howdy stranger!" he crowed across the halls, his words slightly muffled by the cigarette and a wide beam on his face, "You wanna keep a lonely guy company?"

Darry shook his head. "I ain't skippin'" he stated bluntly.

The boy across the hall still smiled, albeit with a slightly puzzled look on his face. "Then what the hell're you doin' out here if you ain't skipping?" he paused for a second, a hand under his chin as if in deep thought. "Bathroom's on the other side'a the school, ya know."

"Uh… no, that's not it," Darry's pride made it difficult to get the next sentence out, "Uh, ya see, I'm kinda-"

"Lost?" the other finished for him, "You new or somethin'?"

"Yeah. Just started today."

"I knew I never saw ya before!" The kid moved from his spot on the lockers, first to toss his cigarette, and then to move next to Darry, giving him a clap on the back, and proving to be fairly close to the eighteen year old's six-foot-two height, "I know my way around this joint, and I woulda remembered seein' you 'round here." Darry just barely noticed the way this kid eyed at his clothes, drinking his entire appearance in with a blink of an eye. Was their a small flash of anger, maybe annoyance, in those gray eyes, or had it been his imagination?

It didn't matter, though, because the smile was back in place in an instant. "Wellup, lemme give you a tour so you can get yourself over to…" his eyes flickered down to the open schedule in Darry's hands, "Mrs. Gentry's class… You sure are lucky, pal. I heard she was a doll, one hell offa bombshell. Shame she's married."

And off the two went, the boy Darry still didn't know in the lead, giving the oldest Curtis boy a tour of what he assumed was nearly the entire school. Classroom after classroom passed him by, and the kid guiding him had a story for nearly every spot they passed, whether it was about him, or one of his buddies, or some kids he barely knew about, but had heard the gossip from his girlfriend. He talked about that girl so much, Darry was feeling as if he was the one dating her.

"…An' right here," the rusty-haired kid announced, "is where this kid, Joe or Jason or somethin', got caught with a few bottles'a booze. He kinda little tipsy when the teacher caught'im, and started askin' him if he wanted a sip or two. I dunno if he still goes to this school…" he paused, mulling it over in his head a bit before grinning slightly, "Aw, it don't matter none. Here's yer class."

Darry had actually forgotten that's what they were looking for, this kid had spent so much time doing everything _but_ searching for his classroom. He didn't know why it mattered, anyway. World History had to be almost over by now. Nevertheless, he thanked the mystery kid for his help and was about to turn into class when said mystery kid stopped him.

"Ya know, ya never did tell me yer name," he stated.

"Darry Curtis."

"Well, Darry Curtis, it's been great ta meetcha. An' remember, if ya ever need any help finding' a class, ya can hunt down the official Two-Bit Matthews tours. I won't charge ya, 'cause you're new an' everythin'. And, now, if you'll excuse me, I gotta get back to skippin' class," he said, winking one of his gray eyes and having that all too familiar grin on his face before disappearing down the halls, off through some corridor that Darry had no idea where it lead to.

He opened up the door to his class, and explained to his teacher- who was, like his tour guide had said, "one hell offa bombshell"- that he was late. She merely beamed at him, saying it was fine, and pointed out his seat, where he barely spent ten minutes in before the bell to change class ended.

However, Darry had one thing on his mind as he attempted to find the cafeteria: _Was his name really Two-Bit?_

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><p><strong>AN: I attempted to end the chapter off on a lighter note…. Did it work? XD Anyway, Soda met Steve, and Darry met Two-Bit… and I don't know about Dally, yet. Do you guys want him to come ion the next chapter, or do you want him to skip school and not show up yet? Please review, and let me know!<strong>

**And, in case anyone was wondering, I made Two-Bit really friendly because I figured that he just… would be. He's the joker dude, and he just seems like someone that likes people. Maybe I'm wrong, but oh well. I just assume that's he's not the type of person to hate you unless you really give him a reason to. And Steve is, obviously, quite the opposite. **

**So, yeah, next chapter will come soon. Please leave a review, or PM me or whatever, and let me know how I did and how it's going so far! Tell me if you liked it, hated it, or anything in between. I love hearing your thoughts! **


	5. Chapter 5

**I _did _ want to get this chapter up earlier, but, as you can see, that didn't quite work out. I just got really busy, between my school dance (that I had to help organize and stuff), Easter, and just life in general, I didn't get time to put this up earlier. But, hey, later's better than never, right? (Forgive me...) **

**On a much, much, much happier note: you guys are amazing! Truly amazing! I got a total of 15 reviews for the last chapter! You have no idea how much that means to me! I think that's the most I've ever gotten for an entire chapter before… so thanks so much, my lovely reviewers! You know how to put a smile on a girl's face! :D **

**Disclaimer: I still own nothing. I'm not a billionaire who can magically buy characters and book rights off of people. I'd own a lot of books if I could… and I'd be rich… so, yeah…**

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><p>It had been an exceptionally long day at school for Ponyboy. And that was coming from the twelve year old who enjoyed almost every aspect of going there everyday. From learning, to reading and writing, there really wasn't much he could find to hate. Today, however, was a different story. Maybe it was because of the fact that it was his first day at Tulsa Junior High School, or maybe it was because he didn't know a single person there, minus Jimmy Sheldon, his next-door neighbor, but it seemed as if the minute-hand on the clock never seemed to move, and the day ticked on for what felt like a week.<p>

He was happy to finally be out of that building, especially that he was able to walk home (his brothers didn't know where it was to pick him up, and their mother didn't have a car to come and get him, what with his father at work and all). The fresh air felt good, especially after being stuck in that cluttered and cramped building all day, and there was a slight breeze which cooled off his sweaty face: the school seemed ungodly hot in the uncomfortable Oklahoma sun.

A backpack slung over his shoulder, Ponyboy attempted to navigate his way home, trying to remember the way he walked to school and hoped he wouldn't get lost. Everything _looked_ familiar to what he had seen this morning, so that was a good start.

After a few minutes, though, the buildings looked foreign and unfamiliar. When he passed by a few homes in this area, they weren't the shiny, brand new buildings that he had seen in his neighborhood. Instead, they were rundown, tiny places that barely looked as if they could fit a family of three or four, with places that desperately needed repairs barely patched up by some amateur attempt to keep it safe against any weather. Any shops or businesses were ancient looking, deprived of both a necessary cleaning and a decent amount of customers. The kids, too, were also different from the ones in Pony's neighborhood. Instead of clean cut, madras-wearing teenagers he had seen wandering around in Mustangs the past couple off days, there were kids with greased back hair, leather jackets, and torn jeans.

Yes, Ponyboy was most definitely lost.

He searched the streets for the next couple of minutes, hoping to find some sign of familiarity, some sign that there might've been a chance that he actually _had _gone the right way, and just didn't recognize it at first. All hope of that was lost after about five minutes, when the buildings became even more rundown and desolate looking than earlier on.

_Nothin' better ta do than headin' back, _he thought, in hopes that maybe, if he turned himself around, Ponyboy would find where he went wrong in heading home and actually get to the place he was supposed to be.

He turned himself around and headed back through the desolate town, hands shoved in his pockets and shoulders bent slightly in hopes that he would appear insignificant to the many kids that were beginning to look at him strangely. He hoped to get to some type of open business or something, so he could ask for directions back home. Ponyboy hoped one would appear soon, too, because all of the stares were starting to give him the creeps.

He could only pray that, in the time it took him to find some type of place to ask for directions, none of these kids came up to him. They were very frightening in some way that Ponyboy couldn't place. It wasn't in their appearance- there were a decent amount of kids that wore leather jackets and messed up jeans in Texas, too. It was just… the way they stared. Like they were locked up animals in a cage that were ready to spring themselves free at any moment and attack. As if Pony was their pray, and they would do whatever it took to capture him.

He figured he would get off safely, though. He could see a the sign of a gas station just a little ways ahead. If he could just make it there, he would be fine and get home okay, and away from these kids that looked ready to take a go at him at any second.

Just as the gas station came even closer into view, a hand clamped down on Ponyboy's shoulder.

He stifled a shocked yelp as a rough voice behind him said, "'Ey, Soc, what the hell do ya think yer doin' on our side of the nieghborhood?"

Ponyboy couldn't give an answer for two reasons. One: the person standing behind him- or, rather, in front of him, since Pony had turned around the second this guy had finished speaking- scared him to death, with his white blonde hair that fell into his piercing blue eyes- eyes that seemed to glow with anger and hate. His lips were curved back to reveal teeth that were a bit too sharp, and didn't have a problem being used if the younger boy didn't answer his question. Two: he had absolutely no idea what a "Soc" was. A nickname for new kids, maybe? Or something the Tulsa kids called the people they didn't know?

The grip on Ponyboy's shoulder grew tighter, and the mystery boy's eyes blazed a bit brighter. "Huh, Soc? Ya gonna answer me, ya no good asshole? Or 're ya gonna stand there lookin' like an idiot?"

Ponyboy took a small, deep breathe in hopes to calm his fears against this guy. He kept his gaze focused on the ground, avoiding the blue eyes that seemed to stare straight into his soul. "I…um, I'm lost. I'm new, an' I dun' really know my way 'round this place." He added the part about being new in some small hopes to gain a shrivel of sympathy from the teenager.

However, that plan backfired. The blonde let out a cruel, low laugh and Ponyboy looked up to see his eyes had even more of an angry fire burning to them. "'Ey, Tim! Ya hear this kid? Says he lost or somethin'. An' on our side'a the tracks, too! Think we should help 'im out a bit?"

A tall, lean teenager with dark hair and blue eyes suddenly appeared behind the one standing in front of Ponyboy, and a grin took over his face in a way that the twelve year old couldn't help but think was like the Cheshire Cat's from Alice in Wonderland. "I 'unno, Dal. He looks awful tough, don't he? Maybe his big, bad Soc friends are comin' to teach us Greasers a lesson."

The blond boy- that Ponyboy guessed was who Time called "Dal"- had a look on his face of mock-contemplation. "Ya think we should beat 'em at their own game?"

Tim's eyes widened in a look of faux horror. "Why, Dally, ya don't mean hurtin' this poor kid that's such a good help to society, do ya?"

A cruel smile flashed on Dally's face. "Since when're Soc kids ever poor?"

Ponyboy could see that they were ready to jump him. He knew the look flashing in both sets of blue eyes: the cruel, uncaring look that had the strongest undertone of anger. He'd seen it in Texas, driving by on the streets with his brothers, seeing random, innocent strangers getting attacked by some kids he knew from school, and Darry and Soda telling him not to get involved when he said the three of them should help the out-numbered kid. The pain the guy was going through looked to be enormous, but Pony never thought he'd have to deal with the same thing. Especially without his brothers or someone there to help him… but that had to be karma in some way. Not helping all those people in Texas was finally catching up with him in Tulsa.

Pony attempted to crouch himself down, to try to make himself smaller. Anything so long as the attack that he knew was about to come wouldn't hurt nearly as much as he was imagining it would. He curled himself up as much as he could while standing up, arms out and ready in both a defensive manner and ready to throw a punch like he was sure he would.

… Only, he never felt any sort of impact from either of the two teenagers. Instead, he lifted his head to see Tim had wandered off, and was replaced by a small, lean dark haired boy in a jeans jacket.

"C'mon, Dally, leave the kid alone," the new kid said in a soft but strong voice.

Dally stared at him, all anger drained from his face and replaced by a tad bit of annoyance on what was now a mask of no emotions. "Ya know this is a Soc kid, right, Johnny? Just like one'a the guys that jumped ya a few months ago? He jus' moseyed on into our side'a the woods, _'n you wanna let 'im go_?" The unemotional façade was dropped for a second, and Dally showed incredulity in both his voice and on his face at the mention of letting Ponyboy wander off unharmed.

Johnny, on the other hand, paled when the other mentioned whatever had happened a few months ago, but quickly recovered. "He ain't one of the guys, Dal. We ain't got no reason to go after 'im. Ya really think a kid this young's gonna jump me back a few months ago, when he was even younger?"

Pony's age was a touchy subject for him, it always had been being the youngest of three boys and all, but especially now that both of his brothers were teenagers- and older one's at that, at sixteen and eighteen- while he was only twelve. Hearing the unknown kid bring up how young he looked made his insides bubble with anger, but he made the hardest attempt to subdue it- this kid was trying to help him; Ponyboy had no reason to be angry at him.

Ice-blue eyes glazed over with anger yet again. "You're a little shit, ya know that, Johnny?" he hissed out, and turned once again to Ponyboy, "You're damn lucky this time, Socy. Next time, ya won't get away. I'll beat yer sorry rich ass so you damn well can't move for a week." Turning on his heel and popping a cigarette in his mouth, Dally walked off after giving a shove to Johnny, disappearing down the street.

Ponyboy turned to who he remembered Dally saying was Johnny, a weary grin on his face. "Uh, thanks… fer, ya know, helpin' me out."

Johnny shrugged, staring down at the twelve year old. "No big. Kids don't needa get involved."

"Well, ya know, I still thought he was gunna kick my ass in with that other guy."

Dark hair flew across his face as the other shook his head. "Nah. They ain't bad guys. They wouldn't beat a kid."

"Uh, I'm Ponyboy, by the way." He figured he may as well introduce himself to the person that, in his mind, had basically just saved his life.

"Johnny." The boy took out his own cigarette, and, for a brief second, Pony got a glance of his dark eyes. There was something in them that the twelve year old couldn't place, but it looked like some type of ancient sadness. A hurt that was unmistakable. "You should really get back home, kid." Johnny's voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and Ponyboy looked up.

"Don't know the way."

"You live on the west side, right?" At Pony's confirmation, Johnny continued, "I know parta the way back." He gave basic instructions about where to turn left and right and go straight at, using small structures that Pony figured would be hard to miss, like how he had to turn right at a house with a shrine for chickens on South Street, and keep going straight until he hit a burnt-down dinner, where he would turn left on, and hopefully find himself on familiar ground.

"Right, thanks, Johnny," Ponyboy said once he had all the directions down, "fer, ya know, everythin'"

Johnny didn't offer a response, and Ponyboy tugged his backpack tighter onto his shoulders as he headed off through the streets, that, this time, would hopefully lead him home.

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><p>In all honesty, Johnny wasn't sure why he helped that Soc kid. Nearly all of the time, he had no problem with Dally, or any one of the rest f his gang or the Greaser population, go out to jump Socs. It wasn't as if he enjoyed the fact that people were getting hurt, it was just the way things were, the way it had always been. Socs hated Greasers, Greasers hated Socs, and they had a very high tendency to hurt each other, to put it in nice terms. But, something about that kid, Ponyboy, just made Johnny have to help him.<p>

Maybe it was because of the fact that he was young, that he was small and scared. It was obvious the kid had never been jumped in any way before, because anyone that had would never act that scared even on the second time around. After one time, you begin to wait for it to happen again, and you aren't as afraid when it happens the second time around. That kid was innocent- he hadn't been jumped yet, hadn't been hurt by the opposite social class. And, even though he was apart of said opposite class, Johnny would be damned if he just sat back and watched that kid get hurt.

After all, Johnny knew what it was like to be hurt young. He grew up with parents that hurt him on a daily basis- whether it was actually beating him, or just ignoring his existence entirely. He also knew other kids like him who had been through the same thing, like Dally, who revealed very little about his life before Tulsa except for abusive parents. However, the blonde became tough to the core from his childhood- Johnny didn't. Dally had no problem with having kids go through exactly what he did: Johnny never wanted to see any kid in pain, no matter how much he acted indifferent. He knew the affects, he knew the damages. And that Ponyboy kid wouldn't be another kid being beaten on if he could help it, whether or not the beating was done by one of his friends, one of his brothers, for a lack of better words, or not.

Ponyboy was an innocent kid, anyone could see that by the look of fear in his eyes, no matter how much the kid tried to hide it. Johnny had been innocent like that once, too, before his parents beat him and he started getting jumped by Socs. And he'd be damned if he just sat back and watched another kid get hurt: he knew all too well how a story like that went.

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><p><strong>I wanted to make Johnny a bit more... what's the word?... courageous in this. I'm sorry if he's OOC, but I thought, if he can stand up to Dally in the book over some Soc girls, he can do the same in my book for a Soc kid, right? So, yeah, the whole second part is basically just him explaining his reasoning behind helping Ponyboy, and yada yada yada. I think he <em>might <em>be OOC, but, hey, that's life. Any how: I hope you guys all enjoyed this chapter! I'm so sorry for the long wait! I hope you all forgive me enough to leave a review... (wink wink). Lemme know what you all thought! :) **

**On a slightly different note: Did you guys know it was the hundredth anniversary of the Titanic's sinking? On April 14-15, 1912, the ship that was deemed unsinkable, well, sank- and almost 2,000 lives were lost. I'm just writing this because of the fact that this story is just so... remarkable to me, and I just enjoy learning about it: it's a legend that's lived on for a century, and something I've been interested in for as long as I can remember. I love the whole story of it, and I decided to post this little note up to let everyone know about it's 100th anniversary, and in honor of all the people that passed. That's all :)**


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